I am tired, I have holiday'd myself out. Is that possible, I am not sure. No don't feel sorry for my affliction, I brought it upon myself. Sigh. Poor pity me. NOT. I also have a serious case of writers block, for that I do require your tea and sympathy.
I have so much to write about though; Dad's visit, the various exciting destinations that we jolly jaunted to (oh the sea sides, the battered cliffs, lofty heights, cultured cruising), our special day remembering mum, and the final days with Dad enjoying London. Then there was the manic week back at work before the big trip to France and Belgium, that felt like months, in a brilliant way, from all the driving and super whirlwind of places that we visited. We visited 8 French provinces if that gives any indication of our trip and we didn't even make it to the centre of the country. So alas, I have too much to write about and so I write...nothing.
I even stayed late at work tonight thinking I would get bored of actually working and urge my fingers to type witty banter about previously aforementioned events, but nope worked right through past 7pm only to be beaten by the tube. Damn thing, delays South bound, then delays, then delayed both ways all from where I was only - faulty train though apparently. It was a taunt at me to go back to my desk and write, or it was a taunt that I should have gone home at a normal time and enjoyed what looked like a beautiful sunset. Sigh, gotta love an Indian summer, so I will enjoy that tomorrow night and maybe I will write again soon.
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